


The First Sacrifice

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt!Spock, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 14:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: Two months into their Five Year mission, Spock saves Jim Kirk's life for the very first time.Rated T for some language and mention of injury.





	The First Sacrifice

The First Sacrifice

When Dr. McCoy had taken that oath, so long ago, he expected there to be some tough days. He expected blood and gore. He expected he'd get a little too close to some of his patients. He even expected to lose sometimes. 

But he hadn't expected this.

He hadn't expected to be standing next to his new friends, cut off and alone on some godforsaken rock in the middle of space. That this rock had inhabitants that were the usual sort of arrogant, selfish jerks he'd fled Earth to get away from. That these arrogant, selfish jerks would have weapons that rivaled human technology only a few centuries earlier, on some other godforsaken rocky battlefield (take your pick which one).

Bones hadn't expected that when one of these arrogent, selfish, good-for-nothing jerks fired their weapon, the half-Vulcan he'd been bullying all this time about not having emotions would shove Jim Kirk out of the way. He hadn't expected the cry of pain from a man who prided himself on cool, collected, logical thinking. And he certainly hadn't expected that he himself would feel a stab of sympathetic pain right along with the half-Vulcan. In fact, he felt more of a pain now than he had with most of his human patients. It scared him. It sent a chill up his spine.

And then it sent him to work.

With Jim covering him from the still-incoming fire, Bones dashed over to the scene. Spock was on his back, green blood covering his chest. His eyes were wide; fearful. His breaths were labored and quick, making his steadily bleeding chest heave up and down rapidly. 

Anyone else and it would have looked like a normal reaction. But in two months of space travel with the man, Bones had never seen him show more emotion than a sarcastic raise of the eyebrow. 

This was practically a breakdown.

"Spock?" Bones asked, finding his voice shaky. To distract himself, he searched for equipment in his medical bag. "Everything's going to be alright. You just relax, now."

He didn't have a clue whether he was lying or not, but the words came instinctively. As he prepared a hypo, he risked a glance over to Kirk. Most of the resident assholes were taken care of, and one was about to get a phaser shot to the head.

Bones found he didn't care whether the phaser was set to stun or to kill. 

A pang of guilt shot through him at the though. But it disappeared as soon as Spock groaned in pain again, lines creasing his forehead.

"Here you go, Spock," Bones murmured, administering just enough medicine to keep the pain low. "Nice and easy."

Jim appeared just as McCoy's medical scanner whirred above Spock's chest. 

"How is he?"

Bones didn't answer until his scanner was finished, and even then he did so warily.

"If it were you, you'd be dead. The bullet hit right where a human heart would be."

"So he saved my life," Jim said, mostly to himself. He looked into Spock's bleary eyes with a warmth that made Bones' chest ache. 

If Spock didn't make it, would Jim be able to handle it? And if Spock did make it, what kind of self-sacrificing heroism was he going to have to deal with for the next five years; from both of them?

Bones cleared his throat. "Jim, we have to get him to sickbay. Even a Vulcan needs some help after a hit like that."

Jim whipped out his communicator, walking off to find a signal nearby. Bones was a little relieved. Now that the captain was gone, he could focus solely on his patient.

"Still with us, Spock?"

Spock's head tilted in recognition, though his eyes were closed. Bones smacked his face gently until they opened again.

"I'm going to apply pressure to the wound, alright? Do you want to hold onto something?"

Spock shook his head, an eerily emotionless mask coming over his features.

"Vulcans are trained...to handle our emotions," Spock said, breathing heavy. "Especially pain."

Bones shrugged and pushed on the wound, jumping only slightly as Spock cried out again. 

"S-sorry doctor," Spock gulped. "My human half makes it a bit...difficult."

Bones felt another pang hit him somewhere deep below his ribs. 

"You don't need to apologize," he said quietly. "I get guys in sickbay crying more from of a stubbed toe."

Spock gave him a look then that he knew he would remember for a long time, possibly forever. A look that only a kid who had never been listened to would wear. A look that told Bones he was one of the first people to consider Spock's human side a virtue instead of a fault.

Bones forced his eyes away from Spock's, afraid he'd get lost in them if he stared too long.

"How's that transport coming?" he called to Jim.

"Communications are jammed. Something the locals did. I know the crew will be working to get past it, but-"

"Then they'd better hurry up," Bones spat. He didn't mean to be so touchy. But his hands were covered in green and Spock was starting to shiver. His little medical bag could only help so much; what Spock needed was a full blown surgical unit.

"Can I do anything to help?" Jim asked, hurrying back over to his science officer's side. He sounded so much smaller here than on the ship. So much more afraid. Paired with his sweaty hands rubbing together incessantly, he looked less of a Starfleet commander and more of a ball of anxiety.

"Talk to him," Bones said quietly. "Keep him calm and distracted. I know he talks about all this Vulcan-Voodoo, but..."

"I got it, Bones." 

Jim knelt on the opposite side of Spock, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder. With Bones still pressing forcefully on his chest, it probably felt like a hug in comparison.

"Spock," said Jim. "How are you doing?"

"I expect I will be unfit for duty for...at least a day, captain," Spock said, breaking every now and then to take a pained breath. 

Jim smiled with a shake of the head.

"Don't worry about that. You've earned as much time off as you need."

"We Vulcans heal fast, captain."

"Jim."

Spock gave him a strange look. "It is custom for an officer to refer to his commander as-"

"Yeah, yeah," Jim waved him off. "But I'm not a normal commander."

Spock gave him that strange look again, with low eyebrows and pursed lips.

"Your qualifications are within an average range of all Starfleet captains. And your placing at the Academy suggests that you are of a similar caliber to all other commanders."

Bones found himself smiling. Jim was actually doing it. Somehow, on this barren rock and with a bullet hole in his chest, Spock sounded like Spock again. If Bones had ever doubted his new captain, those doubts were vanished now.

But the pit of anxiety, unfortunately, only grew. Within a moment of Spock's wonderfully Vulcan response, he shivered violently again. This time, the shivering didn't stop. His teeth clattered together, eyes turning up to the sky with a frighteningly vacant look to them. Sweat beaded on his forehead, straying hair that had never before been out of place.

Jim turned terrified eyes on Bones.

"What's happening?"

"He's going into shock." Bones pressed even harder on the wound, for all the good it would do. "He's lost too much blood, and paired with the trauma on his body-"

"How long does he have?" Jim asked, in an even smaller voice than before.

Bones shook his head. Then he decided this wasn't good enough, and forced some strange surge of energy into himself.

"Keep him awake. Talk to him, hit him, anything that'll work. And keep him warm."

Jim nodded in understanding and got to work. With his outer yellow shirt, he covered Spock's legs, while his undershirt covered his midriff. When that didn't work, he went digging in McCoy's medical bag until he found an expandable blanket.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he murmured, to no one in particular. 

When Spock was blanketed up to the chest, Jim knelt at his side again.

"Spock? Can you hear me?"

Spock didn't respond; only shuddered with flickering, distant eyes.

Jim patted his cheek with an open palm.

"Spock, wake up. You have to stay awake. Doctor's orders. You don't want McCoy angry with you, do you?"

Bones was too terrified to feel anything like anger at the moment. But for some reason, that was the phrase that seemed to work. Spock's eyes drifted to meet Jim's. Recognition sparked.

"Hey. Hey, Spock. Stay with us."

"That is...hardly within my control...c-captain."

Jim had half a mind to shush his second in command, but he was so glad to hear his voice that he didn't care. He smiled, as much as one could smile in the circumstances, and left a hand on Spock's cheek.

"I expect a full report from you when this is all over," Jim said, words slurred with emotion. 

Spock's lip quirked up, too. 

"Yes...captain."

"I told you: call me Jim."

"It is not...in my nature."

Jim shook his head.

"I know that you're only half Vulcan." He adjusted a portion of the blanket so it covered Spock's arm better. 

"Raised on...Vulcan. Makes one...practically speaking...full Vulcan."

While Spock's coherent words should have made Jim feel better, they didn't. His voice was so weak, each sentence fragment separated by gasping breaths. 

"Shh, shh," Jim whispered, massaging Spock's shoulder. "Alright. Save your strength."

Jim could feel his heartbeat in his throat at this point. He'd only been in command for two months and he'd already lost so many people. Every death hit a little harder. But this was Spock. He'd come out of the Academy with highest honors; had served with Pike for years; he was decorated as a hero in so many ways.

And within two months of Kirk's command, he was lying on an alien ground with a fatal chest injury.

An injury that should have been Kirk's.

"Spock," Jim croaked. He breathed: in, out. 

Spock's face was so pale. Against the jet black of his hair, he looked like a ghost. 

"Jim, if we don't get transport...he could have minutes."

Jim chewed his bottom lip raw. Questioned every decision he'd made up to this point. Asked himself why this one situation was getting to him so much, when so many others had already died under his command. 

And then; and then...the communicator chirped. A light blinked.

Jim dove for it; opened it with shaking, green hands.

"Enterprise to Captain-"

"Beam up the landing party," he cut in, command voice back to full capacity. "Emergency medical transport. Have a team ready; Mr. Spock's been injured."

The familiar vibration of the transport beam lifted his heart. A tear blinked into his eye.

They were going home.

'Just hold on a bit longer, Spock', Jim thought to himself.

. . . . . . . . . 

As soon as they landed, as Jim was still getting his bearings, Bones was barking orders at the dazed medical staff standing in the doorway. Luckily, they'd been clever enough to take along a gurney. One of them was already rolling it in at full speed.

"Prepare me a surgical unit," Bones ordered. His hands still lay tense on Spock's chest; absolutely covered in green. "And someone help me get him onto a stretcher. We don't have all day."

Jim volunteered before he had a conscious thought to do so, kneeling across from Bones. He worked one arm beneath Spock's back, pulling him up to a seated position. The Vulcan made a pained noise at that, but Jim didn't dare take notice. He continued on, reaching his other hand beneath Spock's knees.

Cradling his second in command close to his chest, Jim pushed up to a standing position. As he stepped off the platform and across the room, he paid no mind to the gaping faces of worried crew mates.

"We're home, Spock. McCoy's gonna get you fixed up real soon."

Spock said something unintelligible. Before Jim could work out what it was, Bones was beside him, taking hold of the bar of the stretcher.

"I got him, Jim," he said quietly. Then, his face set and he barked more orders at his staff. He and the rest of them were disappeared into the hallway within seconds.

As Jim blinked back into the present, he stumbled. He practically fell into Scotty, who caught him with a face of worry that rivaled Bones'.

"Captain, are you alright?" 

Jim threw a hand up, fixing his disheveled shirt. He ignored the green stain that the action caused, and the growing concern of the engineers and technicians surrounding him.

"I'll be in my quarters," he said sternly. And off he went.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Seconds, minutes, hours passed. The paint on the ceiling swirled into art; something resembling old Earth impressionists. The green blood dried on his hands and his shirt. Muscles stiffened from inaction.

And finally, after his lips had parched and his mind had gone numb with anticipation, the loud whistle of an incoming message echoed through his quarters.

"Jim, you can come on down to sickbay now," McCoy's exhausted voice announced.

Jim jumped up, heart leaping into his throat. That had to be good news, right? McCoy wouldn't sound so casual if it weren't. But how good was it? 

Jim shook his head of the questions. He felt lightheaded enough as it was; tired, hungry, worried. No sense putting this off any longer.

"I'm on my way."

. . . . . . . . . .

"He's sleeping," Jim said dumbly as he breathed in the quiet, sterile air of the sickbay.

Bones' eyes lightened up a bit at that, lips quirking into a tiny, ephemeral smirk.

"I'm guessing you didn't get any sleep either, did you?" Bones asked.

Jim now noticed the tired circles under the doctors eyes. How long had it been? How many hours had McCoy stayed up saving his Science Officer, while he'd been staring at the ceiling?

"Sit down, Jim."

He did as he was told, if only because he didn't have the energy to think of an alternative action. The chair was uncomfortable, like Earth hospital chairs always were. And it felt silly sitting here watching a sleeping Vulcan he'd only known for a short while.

But it also felt right.

"He seems fine," said Bones, looking over a chart of some sort. "Readings are about what they usually are, at least. He just needs to sleep it off."

Jim nodded, but Bones didn't leave. He looked the captain over for a full minute. And then he took a step closer.

"You would've died, Jim," Bones said suddenly.

Jim's head jerked toward him

"Don't you think I know that?" He spat, without venom. 

They blinked, avoiding each other's eyes.

Jim softly added, "Sorry, Bones." He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Bones cleared his throat.

"What I meant was...if you had gotten hit, you would have died. Spock made the logical choice: an injury is better than a death."

It made sense, which eased the guilt. But Jim knew it wasn't going to go away completely. Perhaps not ever.

"Thank you, Bones."

They shared a simple smile.

"I'll be in my office finishing my report."

Jim turned back to Spock with a sigh. He didn't know what was keeping him here. There were duties to perform elsewhere. There was a bed calling him down the hall. There was a report to write and a crew to command.

But for another five minutes, Jim Kirk didn't think about any of those things. He only thought about the strange person in front of him. He looked like a Vulcan, but he wasn't one on the inside. Oh, sure, he had the blank expressions down; he could logic his way out of anything; his blood was green and his heart was where his liver was supposed to be.

But whatever Spock was, he was certainly human. And he was certainly going to prove an interesting asset to this new crew of his.

"Thank you, Spock," Jim said quietly, rubbing his hands together. He gave the unconscious Vulcan a warm smile. "I look forward to getting to know you better."

Spock continued sleeping peacefully, and Jim continued sitting by his side, until Bones chased him back to his quarters with the threat of a sedative hypo if he didn't go to sleep. By this time, though, Jim was satisfied. He had a good Science Officer by his side. He had a crew ready to deal with anything. And he had a brilliant doctor on hand when things went wrong.

This was going to be a good five years.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sooo much for reading! As always, you are welcome to comment; it means more than you know!
> 
> P.S. I am still working on my current Doctor Who fic; a busy schedule and a bout of writer's block have made it difficult lately, but hopefully there will be a chapter out soon!


End file.
